


Limits

by Innsmouth



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Wanton fuckery in all senses of the term
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:11:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innsmouth/pseuds/Innsmouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When one is regularly banished from one's apartment by one's sister and her extraterrestrial paramour screwing like rabbits in heat, one can get a little annoyed.</p><p>Roxy finally does something about her problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Limits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Auddish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auddish/gifts).



The scarf on the doorknob becomes emblematic of the divide in their living situation. Many are the times when Roxy has languished outside Rose’s bedroom, or the living room, or the bathroom as she waits for the muffled noises to stop. More than once she has cast her eyes heavenward, imploring Jesus or Buddha or Xenu or whoever the fuck happens to be casting a godly ear her way to drop a cosmic bag of ice on Rose’s libido.  
  
In retrospect, perhaps moving in with her sister and (as Rose had put it so delicately), “an acquaintance from the Alternian cultural exchange program,” had not been the best idea. Rose is deviously cryptic on the best of days, all innuendo and linguistic fuckery; for all Roxy adores her, dealing with her bullshit on a daily basis does wear on the mind after a while, especially when her sister is being deliberately evasive. At least after years of being compelled to divine Rose’s thoroughly hidden true intentions, Roxy is a veritable master at knowing what the fuck is actually going on.  
  
It’s not as if Rose is actually subtle about screwing her alien girlfriend, either. Geez.  
  
So it was that on the first night she came home from her favorite bar to a locked bathroom, faint moaning from the shower, and her own vague sense of booze-induced nausea, Roxy merely rolled her eyes, sat down on the couch to play Earthbound, and willed the eight or so beers she’d imbibed that night to stay where the hell they were. Twenty minutes later, Rose had slunk out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, damp-haired and red-faced, and Roxy had paused in her battle with the evil Mani Mani idol to turn, stare, and give her the full Walk of Shame experience. Rose, in the manner of a cat whose dignity has been stripped from it but is unwilling to acknowledge that fact, pointedly ignored her all the way to her bedroom.  
  
God forbid that she bear any actual grudge against either of them, though. Rose is her sister, after all, and Roxy loves her fiercely even if she does still tease her about crying at the end of _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_. Kanaya, for her part, is poised and graceful and a goddamn _sassmaster_ despite having the unnerving habit of eating all of her steak raw and bloody and also the tendency to gaze at Rose’s neck with a little too much wistfulness. Roxy chalks her weirdness up to Mysterious Cultural Differences and is polite about the fact that Alternians eat their children when it comes up at the dinner table. It’s totally acceptable, she says. Well, not acceptable here, unless you’re like Jeffrey Dahmer or some shit. But acceptable in other places, totally.  
  
Rose nearly snaps her fork. Kanaya shrugs and dabs at her lips with a napkin before calmly informing the table that grub-derived products are ubiquitous on Alternia; she and Roxy spend the rest of their meal discussing relative societal capabilities of biotechnology and the ethics thereof while Rose fumes silently in the background. The pointedly loud screech of cutlery on Rose’s plate is easy to ignore after the first twelve or so times she saws murderously away at her fish. Unfortunately for Roxy, however, this is but the first phase of Rose’s nefarious plot to pay her back in full for this perceived slight.  
  
Post-dinner, Roxy spends the rest of the night sexiled on the couch, trying in vain not to hear the bed creak or Kanaya’s breathy cries of Rose’s name. Revenge for Rose Lalonde is a dish that is apparently best served piping hot with the potential to ruin the bedclothes. The latter point is ably proven in the morning, when, still bleary with a lack of sleep, Roxy catches Rose creeping out the door with an armful of green-stained sheets. Sore-backed and stiff-jointed, she shoots her sister a look of undisguised annoyance. Rose is profoundly unmoved.  
  
On the night when she comes home from a day filled with entitled Starbucks customers and an espresso machine accident to badly-stifled noises that could come directly from the soundtrack of a shitty lesbian porno, Roxy decides that enough is enough. The silence that falls after she drops her bag on the table with a furiously loud _whumpf_ lasts for only five seconds, but the pause is long enough to feed her exasperation. Rose’s obnoxious purple hand-knit scarf goes slithering to the floor to land in a sad pile as Roxy casually pushes the bedroom door open.  
  
The first thought that leaps to mind for Roxy is that god _damn_ , her sister has a hella rad body under her skirts and dumb hipster jackets. The murderous glare that Rose is pointing in her direction is less than hot, however, especially with the undignified flush that she happens to be sporting. Head buried between Rose’s legs, Kanaya freezes, ears pricking straight up. Roxy smirks. “Oh man, did I walk in on something? Whoops, my bad.”  
  
She makes no move to retreat.  
  
“Funny you should raise that possibility,” says Rose in a decidedly peeved voice. “We may or may not have just been indulging in a cultural exchange.”  
  
“A cultural exchange?” asks Roxy. “Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?”  
  
"Oh for fuck's sake," says Kanaya, muffled between Rose's thighs.  
  
The furrow between Rose's eyebrows deepens. "Can you--?" She makes a slight shooing motion with her hand and reknots her fingers in Kanaya's mussed hair.  
  
With practiced nonchalance, Roxy leans on the doorframe. "No no," she says airily, "go ahead. Don't let me stop you."  
  
“Rose,” says Kanaya, “is she not leaving?”  
  
“No,” says Rose. “Actually, I think she might be taking notes.”  
  
Roxy shrugs. “Gotta have something for my anthro final.”  
  
Kanaya rests her head on Rose’s thigh, green-and-gold eyes narrowed in irritation. “I do believe we’re being prevented from continuing our intimate encounter.”  
  
Rose exhales loudly through her nose. “I believe the term you’re looking for is ‘cockblocked.’”  
  
Victorious, Roxy simply grins.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry that this isn't more elaborate; I was unable to come up with anything I was really satisfied with. Regardless, I hope that this amused you, and that you have a happy holiday season.


End file.
